Amnesia
by PoeticChick
Summary: Right before an important peace-making conference between two warring nations, Archer gets amnesia!


Title: Amnesia  
  
Rating: PG (for mild language)  
  
Summary: Right before an important peace-making conference between two warring nations, Archer gets amnesia!  
  
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me; they are property of Paramount – I just enjoy making fun of them. Please review; feedback is greatly appreciated!  
  
  
  
Setting: Archer's quarters. The lights are dimmed, and Archer is sitting at his desk. He is wearing red pajamas with a drop-seat bottom and Minnie Mouse slippers.  
  
ARCHER: Captain's log, stardate – oh wait, we haven't developed that. [sighs] Whatever. [whines] Anyway, I had a bad day. We didn't find any aliens to pester, Malcolm caught me trying to rig the viewscreen so I could see inside the female ensigns' locker room, and my chicken noodle soup was cold. Also, you know that peace-making thingy with those two warring alien nations? Yeah, I couldn't get out of it, so it's tomorrow, but that'll probably be boring anyway. On the bright side, T'Pol only glared at me twelve times instead of the usual seventeen. [brightens a little] Maybe that means she likes me! Ooh! I bet she does!  
  
COMPUTER: Shut up, Archer.  
  
ARCHER: Whaaat?  
  
COMPUTER: You heard me! I'm tired to listening to you bitch about everything. [imitates Archer] Nobody likes me, everything's boring, wah-wah- wah.  
  
ARCHER: [whimpery] You don't need to be so mean.  
  
COMPUTER: Get a life.  
  
ARCHER: [huffy] Well, I never! Computer, end recording!  
  
[Archer gets up and stomps over to Porthos, who is laying by his empty food dish.]  
  
ARCHER: Poor Porthy! Are you hungry-wungry, puppy-wuppy? Here, I've got a nice block of Brie in my closet somewhere.  
  
[Archer shuffles sleepily to his closet and starts looking for the Brie. Behind him, Porthos rolls his eyes]  
  
ARCHER: Ah, I think it's up here! [stands on his tippy-toes and strains to reach the cheese on the top shelf] Almost got it, Porthy! [makes a wild grab for the cheese. He misses and hits a stack of shoeboxes instead.] Oh no!  
  
[The shoeboxes come raining down on Archer. They jar some more boxes, which also fall on Archer. Archer screams as the boxes hit him. One particularly large box smacks him in the forehead, and Archer collapses dramatically. Buried under all the boxes, he doesn't move. Porthos creeps over, sniffs at his fallen master, and then goes back to sleep by his bowl.  
  
It is soon the next morning, and the Hobblygobblygotchygoo and Mxxxpogersher representatives are due to arrive in a few hours. On the bridge, the crew is wondering where their captain is.]  
  
REED: I don't like it. [dramatically] Something suspect is going on, I can *feel* it!  
  
HOSHI: This sounds strangely familiar…  
  
TRIP: I'm kinda enjoying the bridge without him whining and complaining and playing with the warp drive. Wreaks havoc on the engines, he does.  
  
MAYWEATHER: Hey, Commander, there's a little blinky thing goin' off on my console.  
  
TRIP: [exasperated] Travis, what's the first thing you learned about starships?  
  
MAYWEATHER: [thinks hard] If there's a blinking button, push it! [pushes the button, and an alien appears on the view screen. "So that's what that does!" Travis mutters.]  
  
ALIEN: Greetings. Is the conference still on?  
  
TRIP: 1100 hours, Captain. We've got a nice potluck planned, so be sure to bring something tasty!  
  
[Almost an hour passes. Finally, the crew decides that maybe they *should* go look for Archer, although no one except Reed seems to miss him. They decide to check his quarters first.]  
  
TRIP: [bangs on door] Cap'n? Cap'n, are you in there?  
  
REED: Just *open* the bloody *door*, Commander.  
  
HOSHI: But what if he's getting dressed? [she and T'Pol squeal, "Eww!" and wrinkle their noses at each other]  
  
REED: [more enthusiastic] Open the door, open the door!  
  
[Trip pushes the button and the door opens. Everyone gasps at the horrific sight. There is a pile of shoeboxes on the floor. Archer's hand is sticking out from the pile. It twitches sporadically.]  
  
T'POL: It appears he has been the victim of an avalanche. We must attempt to rescue him.  
  
MAYWEATHER: [whiny] Do we have to? [whimpers when T'Pol glares at him] All right, all right. Let's start moving the boxes.  
  
[They start tossing the boxes onto Archer's bed.]  
  
TRIP: [opens the box that fell on Archer's head] What the – [lifts out a pair of knee-high, black leather boots]  
  
REED: [opens a box] Curious. [lifts out a pair of pink platform sandals]  
  
HOSHI: [opens a box and shows everyone a pair of red stilettos] Hey! These look like the shoes I lost a few weeks ago!  
  
TRIP: This is some weird-ass stuff!  
  
T'POL: We must keep working.  
  
[Finally all the boxes are cleared. Archer is sprawled on the floor, unconscious, one hand dramatically across his forehead.]  
  
REED: We have to get him to sickbay! Everyone, get ready.  
  
[Everyone gathers around Archer and heaves him off the floor. They slowly make their way to the door. As they're going through the door, Archer's head smacks against the doorframe.]  
  
HOSHI: Whoopsie!  
  
T'POL: I suggest we have Dr. Phlox come to us instead of attempting to take the Captain to *him*.  
  
EVERYONE: Oh, yeah, good idea. [Everyone lets go of Archer at the same time. He lands on the floor with a thud.]  
  
[T'Pol calls the doctor, and he hurries to Archer's quarters. He scans him, tutting scoldingly.]  
  
PHLOX: It seems he's suffered a strong blow to the head – ["The ho-boots," Hoshi whispers knowingly.] - but it's nothing a day or so of rest won't fix.  
  
TRIP: But we've got that peace conference with the Hobblygobblygotchygoo and Mxxxpogersher in a little while! We need the captain! [somber music plays] He's the *only* one that can solve their dispute, Doctor!  
  
PHLOX: My poor Johnny…*clears throat nervously* I suppose he'll be all right, as long as you don't let him overexert himself. Shall I wake him up?  
  
EVERYONE EXCEPT MAYWEATHER: YEEEEES!  
  
MAYWEATHER: NOO – I mean, YEEEEES!  
  
PHLOX: [smacks Archer on the head a few times with a wedge-heeled sandal. Archer blinks groggily] There! Good as new! [dusts off hands] Well, I best be off. Ta! [leaves]  
  
ARCHER: [looking at T'Pol in confusion] Mommy?  
  
T'POL: No, I am your science officer, Subcommander –  
  
ARCHER: *Mommy*!!! [throws his arms around T'Pol, who extricates herself with a look of disgust on her face] Commander Tucker, the Captain smells foul.  
  
TRIP: Don't start your uppity Vulcan crap now, T'Pol!  
  
T'POL: More foul than usual, Commander.  
  
TRIP: [sniffs a few times] Gosh darn it, you're right! What the hell is that?  
  
HOSHI: [blushes] Sir, I think it's – I think he –  
  
ARCHER: [sniffs at his pajamas tearfully] Johnny made a tinkle!  
  
TRIP: [rolls eyes] Great. *Now* what do we do? [everyone leaves quickly, claiming they have other things to do immediately, leaving Trip and Archer alone.]  
  
ARCHER: [beginning to cry] Johnny made a tinkle in his jammies!  
  
TRIP: Get a hold of yerself, Cap'n!  
  
ARCHER: Captain? I'm a Captain? Oh boy! [jumps up and down]  
  
TRIP: Great.  
  
[In sickbay, Dr. Phlox scans a wiggling Archer while Trip stands by disinterestedly.]  
  
TRIP: [glances at his watch] Can you hurry it up a little, Doc? I was supposed to meet that hot chick from Astrometrics ten minutes ago.  
  
PHLOX: Don't you think your Captain's health is a little more important? And why are you wearing a watch? And – hey! We don't have Astrometrics yet!  
  
TRIP: Then why did she say she worked in – man! That's the third time that's happened!  
  
ARCHER: [reaching for Phlox's face] Funny-face man! The man has a funny face! [tugs on Trip's sleeve]  
  
PHLOX: Oh dear. It seems he's suffering from [climactic music plays] amnesia. Hey, where's that coming from?  
  
TRIP: Beats me. So how long is this mamsnesia – ["Amnesia," Phlox corrects] going to last?  
  
PHLOX: You think I know everything? You think I have all the answers? I'm *not* an encyclopedia! I CAN'T WORK UNDER THESE CONDITIONS! [sighs dramatically] I'll be in my office. [a nurse scurries after him with a towel and glass of ice water, glaring at Trip]  
  
TRIP: Is *everyone* on this ship off their freakin' rockers? [Glances at Archer, who is staring with wonder at the consoles, occasionally mumbling, "Beep-beep! Beep-beep!"]  
  
[Trip leads Archer to the bridge – "Ooh, a big TV!" squeals Archer, pointing at the viewscreen – and shows him where to sit. Archer promptly starts pushing buttons.]  
  
TRIP: Cap'n, you need to keep it together, you hear me? We're having a very important meeting in about half an hour with some *nice* people and –  
  
T'POL: Commander, there's no reason to speak to the Captain like he's a child.  
  
ARCHER: [jumps up from his chair and starts running around, making airplane noises]  
  
[Finally, the Hobblygobblygotchygoo and Mxxxpogersher representatives arrive. Hoshi escorts them to Archer's dining room, while Trip gives Archer some last-minute pep talks.]  
  
TRIP: Now Cap'n, I'll be right here with you the whole time, but it's *you* they're counting on, understand?  
  
ARCHER: [stares at Trip's hair] Trippy has purty hair!  
  
TRIP: Cap'n, I – hey, you really think so? I brush it a hundred times a night, but I personally think it's the moisturizer; it's all about the *moisturizer*. [Smacks himself in the head] Focus! Do you think you're ready?  
  
ARCHER: [nods shyly]  
  
TRIP: All right, then.  
  
[The doors open and Trip precedes Archer into the room. Hoshi is already seated beside the representative they talked to earlier that day. Each representative brought along a bodyguard, both of whom are standing by the doors. The table is covered in food.]  
  
HOSHI: Captain Archer, Commander Tucker, may I present the Mxxxpogersher representative?  
  
ARCHER: [perkily] Hiya there!  
  
ALIEN: [deep, gruff voice] Greetings, Captain. My name is Tampax.  
  
TRIP: [snickers] Tampax, really? That's yer name?  
  
TAMPAX: I see nothing amusing. I chose my name after many hours watching your – you call them "television broadcasts". I chose my name from your culture; I thought it sounded noble. On Earth, you can apparently do many things with Tampax - [takes on style of a commercial announcer] go swimming, ride horses…  
  
HOSHI: [between giggles] And this is his bodyguard, Neutrogena.  
  
TRIP: Are you kidding me?  
  
NEUTROGENA: It is an honor to be here.  
  
HOSHI: And *this* is the Hobblygobblygotchygoo representative, Fred.  
  
TRIP: Fred?  
  
HOSHI: Fred.  
  
FRED: [in a high, shrill voice] My real name is utterly unpronounceable in any other language besides Hobblygobblygotchygooian; the closest name in your language was Fred. Is this humorous?  
  
TRIP: [coughs] No, not at all.  
  
HOSHI: And this is Fred's bodyguard, Al.  
  
AL: Greetings.  
  
ARCHER: Hullo.  
  
TRIP: Um, why don't we get started? [He sits down beside Fred, and Archer sits at the head of the table.] I can see you both have brought some food. Why don't you tell us about it?  
  
TAMPAX: I have brought moggypoggypagh, a delicacy in our culture.  
  
ARCHER: [brightly] Sounds yummalicious!  
  
TRIP: [peers into the large bowl. The moggypoggypagh is a thick purple paste that bubbles occasionally.] Looks tasty.  
  
TAMPAX: I also brought some chummywummywagh. [Holds out a plate containing a green, writhing mass]  
  
ARCHER: Oh goodie!  
  
FRED: [holds out bowl] I have brought chili.  
  
TRIP: [relieved] Now *that *I can get into.  
  
ARCHER: [wrinkles nose] It looks icky.  
  
HOSHI: I think what the Captain means is –  
  
ARCHER: [importantly] I think it looks like throw-up. [Begins singing, his voice cracking on the high notes] Lavender's blue dilly-dilly, lavender's greeeeeen…  
  
HOSHI: [buries face in hands]  
  
TAMPAX: I concur. The chili looks like vomit.  
  
FRED: [slams down bowl] See here! [They begin to argue]  
  
ARCHER: [stops singing and begins yelling over the din] Trippy? Trippy, I need to –  
  
TRIP: [tries to shush Tampax and Fred] Just a minute, Cap'n!  
  
ARCHER: But Trippy –  
  
HOSHI: What is it, sir?  
  
ARCHER: I hafta go potty, Trippy. [Urgently whispers] It's number two!  
  
TRIP: Y'all can start eating. Please excuse us. [He leads Archer out of the room.]  
  
FRED: Ensign Sato, I have come to the conclusion that your captain is somewhat of a – how do you humans say it? – dumbass.  
  
HOSHI: [shrugs] You didn't hear it from me.  
  
[Archer and Trip return a few minutes later. There is a satisfied grin on Archer's face and a disgusted grimace on Trip's face.  
  
Everyone begins to eat, and things seem to be going well. Archer is quietly singing Where is Thumbkin? to himself, and Tampax and Fred begin to discuss their children.]  
  
TAMPAX: My son, Pizza Hut, has almost finished his schooling.  
  
FRED: My daughter, Betty, has *already* finished her schooling.  
  
HOSHI: [scoops a tiny bit of chummywummywagh onto her plate] Oh! It tried to bite me! [Shoves her plate away. The chummywummywagh hisses.]  
  
ARCHER: [slumps down in chair] I'm bo-ored!  
  
TRIP: [clears throat and dabs at his mouth with his napkin, unaware that a clump of cheese from the chili is clinging to his top lip] Why don't we begin the talks, then?  
  
ARCHER: Don't wanna.  
  
HOSHI: [wipes her mouth while staring pointedly at Trip]  
  
TRIP: Cap'n, this really is an urgent matter.  
  
ARCHER: [loudly] I said I don't wanna!  
  
HOSHI: [scrubs at face with napkin]  
  
FRED: Is something the matter, Captain?  
  
ARCHER: [points at Trip and chants] Trippy has a boogie on his face! Trippy has a boogie on his face!  
  
TRIP: [blushes and wipes off his mouth] Can we *please* get down to business?  
  
ARCHER: [leaps out of chair and begins dancing around the room, singing "Yellow Submarine" at the top of his lungs]  
  
HOSHI: [horrified] CAPTAIN!  
  
TAMPAX: What is the meaning of this? Is this some sort of joke? [stands up]  
  
FRED: I assure you, I am not amused. [Stands up] Come, Al, they are wasting our time.  
  
HOSHI: Please wait!  
  
ARCHER: [dances over to Tampax and Fred and throws his arms around them.] [sings in a high, fluttery voice] Why can't we all just be friends?  
  
[As Hoshi and Trip hold their breath, Tampax and Fred look at each other, at Archer, and back at each other.]  
  
FRED: That's a good question.  
  
TAMPAX: Really – why were we killing each other, anyway?  
  
FRED: You know, I can't remember!  
  
TAMPAX: Aw, c'mere, bro! [they embrace]  
  
TRIP: [shakes head] How does he do it? He *always* manages to save the day. [shrugs] Oh well. I had my day when I saved us from the *eeevil* rock people!  
  
HOSHI: [whispers] Commander, there *weren't* any rock people; Travis explained that.  
  
TRIP: [confused] Really?  
  
TAMPAX: [shaking hands with Fred] We will forever be indebted to you, Captain, for keeping us from starting a terrible war.  
  
FRED: You have saved many lives, Captain. We are very grateful.  
  
TAMPAX: Ciao.  
  
[Tampax and Fred walk out of the room arm-in-arm. Neutrogena and Al follow, sobbing joyfully in each other's arms. Archer dusts off his hands, satisfied. He then collapses on the floor, snoring loudly. The comm system beeps.]  
  
PHLOX: Commander Tucker! I forgot to tell you earlier: the Captain may be prone to narcolepsy for a period of time due to the blow to his head.  
  
TRIP: [dryly] You don't say. [Glances down at Archer and gives him a little kick. Archer wakes with a start.]  
  
ARCHER: Trip? Hoshi? What happened? Have the representatives arrived yet? [Trip explains. Archer sighs in an agitated manner and runs a hand through his hair.] I hope I wasn't too much of a bother, Trip. [Smiles coyly]  
  
HOSHI: Well, now that everything's back to normal, I'll be on the bridge, having a panic attack about how a single mistranslation could have been the end of us all. [Leaves]  
  
ARCHER: [sidles up to Trip and smiles slyly] Commander, I'm afraid I have to use the restroom again.  
  
TRIP: Oh no you don't! Not on my watch! No way, no how, Cap'n! *Never* again!  
  
ARCHER: [calmly] Don't make me order you, Trip.  
  
TRIP: [stuffs his fingers in his ears] I CAN'T HEAR YOU, I CAN'T HEAR YOU, LALALALALA!!!!!! [Runs away]  
  
ARCHER: Ah, playing coy, are we? [falsetto voice] Oh, Trippy? [Runs after a screaming Trip]  
  
[Porthos, who has been curled up under the table the entire time, watches Archer chase Trip and shakes his head hopelessly.]  
  
  
  
THE END 


End file.
